It's Always About You
by Sally Fantastic
Summary: Sherlock/OC. When Sherlock Holmes and John Watson of the show 'Sherlock' find their ways into reality, their only option is to go to one of their fans who happens to be a detective named Loraine Hallowell. Using her 'Holmes Sense', she finds that if she puts her brain to it and does her all, she could probably be considered at the same level as Sherlock. If he lets her get there.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note (A/N): Hello fellow Sherlock Fanfiction readers! This will be a Sherlock/OC story, so if you do not like that or do not like OCs, the back button is right up there. I worked pretty hard on this so I hope it satisfies you all. :3 **

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_'It's amazing how long time goes by'._

This is what Loraine thought every day of her life. She remembered when iPod Touch didn't exist (and the golden years when Lady GaGa didn't either). It was time to go out, but today was a very dreadful day. Everyone was mourning the loss of Anna Heath, a bright and cheerful woman of 21 years. No one knows why someone as happy as Anna Heath would commit suicide, but it was Loraine's job to find out. Sometimes it was atrocious to work as an investigator for the LAPD, but it brings money home and it's something Loraine finds interesting, considering how nosy she is.

Because of this, Loraine has been studying Sherlock Holmes for years before she actually applied for the job. She still didn't know how a brilliant person could be called a freak. Loraine seemed to be reeling towards Watson though, for she is almost exactly like he is. In the presence of Mr. Holmes, she'd probably feel her IQ getting **lower** instead of **higher.**

Loraine walked out of her town house dressed in a nice beige trench coat. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she thought it would be today, but as always, the poor unfortunate investigator found herself being proved wrong. Everywhere Loraine looked, there seemed to be someone looking depressed. _'Maybe they needed winding up, like in those anti-depressant pill commercials.'_ Loraine pondered.

After the horrendous walk to the crime scene of Anna Heath, Loraine grabbed a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it up. Out came Harry Lawrence, the bane of her existence (and her boss). "Ugh, stop smoking. You look like a prostitute." Loraine turned her head to the annoying voice of Harry. "Remember when smoking was considered classy, dear Harry?" In a flash, he had grabbed Loraine's cigarette and thrown it to the ground with a huff. "Well, not anymore, clearly. Now get your British arse inside the house before I fire you, Miss Hallowell." Loraine stared daggers at Harry before walking into the house.

Loraine was quick to put on her gloves and walk right into the room where the suicide took place before anyone had noticed her.

That is, until her friend started calling after her. "Loraine! Loraine!" She heard Joseph Black call her. Instead of wondering what he wanted from her, she assessed the situation at hand.

_'The phone is on the right and the notepad is on the left. The butter knife is on the left. Must mean she's left handed. It also seems she has ink on her left hand._

_'Her clothes aren't wet but her jacket is. It must have been a rainy day and she covered herself with it?_

_'There are bruises around the neck area. Surely she wouldn't choke herself.'_

While still in her '_Holmes Sense'_ as Loraine called it, Joseph tapped her shoulder, making her daze fade to grey. "Will you excuse me for a moment, Joseph? I'm in my _Holmes Sense_ right now. Please." She grouched, looking to her friend. Joseph put his hands up in defeat, "Sorry to interrupt, Loraine, but there are two new detectives in town. Thought you'd like to meet em'." Loraine looked at her friend in disgust. "Why would I want to meet baby detectives? I have no time and this is not the place." Before allowing Loraine to walk away, Joseph grabbed her shoulder, causing her to abruptly stop her get-away. "Loraine, what is with you today? Anyways, the reason I wanted to is because they look familiar. I think they were actors back in twenty-ten." Now this caught the detective's interest. "Alright. Take me, but if Harry comes in and sees me talking to two new twats, you shall take the blame, Mr. Black." Joseph smiled at her and beckoned for Loraine to follow.

It took a matter of seconds to get down the stairs and into the living room for Loraine, taking two steps at a time and speed walking. She was taken aback by the two new faces. "Look, John, that's the nice lady I was talking about." The tall one said to the short one, pointing to Loraine. Loraine quickly looked from side-to-side to make sure there was no one else in the ratio of the room. The tall one walked up to her, the shorter one following behind. "Hello, Loraine Hallowell. My name is Sherlock Holmes and I believe you can help us." Loraine raised a brow.

"First tell me how you knew my name, then I shall consider helping you."

"Your friend Mr. Black spoke of the Detective _Hallowell_, which is how I got your last name. The way I got your first name was easy. As you can see, on your card there is the initial_ L_. You have a British accent but your friend also said about you being half French. I thought of all possible and impossible names for French people, then I thought of popular French names from the year you were born in and I realized your name was Detective Loraine Hallowell." Loraine nodded slightly, putting a hand to her chin.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain how you're here instead of there." She pointed to the TV. The shorter one, Loraine naming him Watson for now, looked to the TV.

"We have our own TV show?" Loraine nodded once again. "Yes. It is called Sherlock and it's from BBC, focusing on Watson and Holmes." Sherlock nodded his head slightly. "Great, so we are in a presence of a fan." Loraine narrowed her eyes.

"Have a problem with fans, Holmes?" It was his turn to narrow them.

"Why yes, Mrs. Hallowell."

"Miss."

"Excuse me?"

"I am not married. I'd think _**the**_ Sherlock Holmes would have found out by now seeing as I do not have a wedding band on my finger." Holmes smirked. "Ah, so you are merely stealing my technique, I see." Loraine narrowed her eyes a bit more.

"I wouldn't say stealing, Mr. Holmes. You never said it was your property, nor have I ever said I had a brain capable of what your's does." Watson looked over at Loraine. "But-." Sherlock interrupted him.

"I like you, Miss Hallowell, so I've spoken to Harry and he's allowing me to take you away for a bit. We're going back to the year 2010." Loraine opened her mouth to protest, but Sherlock had attacked her with chloroform, and her world went black in a few seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to _uzumaki misaki _for the first review! 'In reality', this story takes place in 2012. **

**I got the idea of the couch from _Intercourse on the Couch, _a fanfiction by _freemanrage._**

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When Loraine awoke, she found herself in Sherlock's room on top of his bed._ 'How did I get from Anna Heath's house to Sherlock's house in a TV show?'_ She contemplated as she got out of bed and walked out of the room. "I am not your housemaid, I am your landlord, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson scolded. John looked over and spotted Loraine. "Ah, I see you are awake. Do pardon Sherlock's way of getting you here, he's not a people person." Loraine walked over to John and nodded.

"Right, where are we?"

"2010. London, England." Loraine did a little 'aw' noise as she put her hand to her chest and her mouth open. "B-But time traveling isn't possible unless you go from time zone to time zone!" Sherlock walked in with some nicotine patches on his arm.

"That's what I thought too, until somehow I got it done and learned to go from here to there. Now you see, I would have bothered someone else who isn't a fan, but seeming as you were our last hope, I do not apologize for the chloroform." Loraine's mouth stayed open.

"Wow, I didn't know you were such a wanker in real life." Loraine said, more to herself than to the people in the room.

**"Excuse me?"** Sherlock asked. Loraine did not repeat herself. She started patting her jeans before sighing. "Hey, you got any cigarettes?" Sherlock raised a brow, handing her one of his old ones. "You smoke?" Loraine lit it and put the cigarette in her mouth, answering after she blew the smoke out.

"Why, yes. Yes I do. Now why me?" Sherlock motioned to the seat, which Loraine gladly took as he sat next to Watson. "We got a phone call from Jim Moriarty." Loraine gasped.

**"He can not be trusted! Are you kidding me right now?"** Sherlock and John exchanged a glance.

"No, we are not kidding. Now let me finish, will you? We got a phone call from Jim Moriarty this morning, stating a riddle about time travel. We solved it, and your name was the next clue." Sherlock stated. Loraine nodded slowly before getting up and pinching herself. She yelped a bit afterwards before Watson stood. "What are you doing?" Loraine looked over at him and Sherlock.

"Pinch me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said pinch me." Loraine pulled her arm out. Sherlock stood, smirking. "I'll do the honors." He grabbed her arm and pinched her very hard, causing her to yelp even louder. "Jesus, you didn't have to do it that hard, Mr. Holmes!" Loraine felt her IQ getting lower. See? Being around him does make it lower.

"Sherlock."

"Hm?" Loraine looked up from her arm to Sherlock.

"Call me Sherlock."

Loraine nodded before looking back at her arm, which was starting to form a red mark, and little droplets of blood. "Ugh. John, do you have any bandages?" Watson nodded before trudging off to God knows where to get the bandage. Loraine looked to the left and saw a quite comfortable looking couch, taking a seat. It took her about five seconds to realize the growling noise coming from the other side of the room. She looked up and saw Sherlock glaring her to death. "Is there a problem? You look uncomfortable and you are glaring at me like I just shot your wife." Sherlock huffed.

"Get off my couch. That couch is made for thinking and not for someone's pretty little arse like your's to be sitting on it. Now _off._" Loraine smirked before standing up. "You just called my ass pretty." Sherlock rolled his eyes and John came with a bandage. Handing it to Loraine, who put it on and thanked him, Sherlock was busy glaring at Loraine. "I should have pinched harder, don't you think, dear Watson?" Loraine's jaw dropped. "W-Well no, Sherlock you could have seriously hurt her you know." Loraine narrowed her eyes, putting the cigarette back in her mouth and puffing out some smoke again. "Sherlock, have you heard of the expression, 'Pinch me; I'm dreaming'?" Sherlock looked over at Loraine.

"Why yes, yes I have."

"Well, that's what I was going for." Sherlock smirked.

"I know."

"Then why did you have to go all hardcore on me?" She looked around before asking Watson if he could please get her an ash tray.

"Because you are my fan." Loraine chuckled.

"Now who said I'd be a fan of you, Sherlock? What if I was a fan of Watson, or maybe even Mycroft?" Sherlock gasped.

"You wouldn't even dare be a fan of my brother and not me." Loraine rolled her eyes.

"Ah, brotherly love. I can't tell you how much I _love_ my brother." She narrowed her eyes.

"Your brother is dead, how can you love him right now?" Watson walked in with an ash tray and slapped Sherlock's arm.

"Sherlock, just because people are dead doesn't mean you don't have to completely drop your emotions for them." Watson said in a matter-of-fact tone. Sherlock merely shrugged before running to the window. Smiling, he jumped up in the air. "Oh, Watson! Another suicide! Quickly, quickly, we need to go! Oh, it's Christmas!" Loraine stared at him and couldn't help but smile, which quickly faded when they were about to walk out of the door. "Wait! What about me?" Sherlock turned to her. "I put my number in your phone; if you need anything you may text me. Go... shopping, or whatever girls do." And he left, slamming the door on his way out. One day that door is going to break and Loraine will _not _be the one who will fix it.


	3. Chapter 3

Loraine spent the day walking around London, occasionally going into shops and browsing, though the only thing she actually bought was a nice watch. As she continued down the crowded streets, Loraine thought if she would actually stay here forever. Loraine wondered if anyone was worried about her (Except for Harry; Loraine could care less about him). _Buzz. Buzz._ Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

_"221 B Baker Street. Come if Convenient._

_SH"_

Loraine couldn't help but chuckle at the somewhat recognizable text message as she tried to get a taxi cab. _Buzz. Buzz_. Her phone vibrated a second time.

_"If inconvienent, come anyway._

_SH"_

Loraine sighed as she gave up the taxi hunting and started running towards the home. Once there she opened the door and walked up the steps. "Dear God, Loraine." Sherlock stated once he saw her.

"Couldn't get a cab. Now what was so important that I had to come back? I had taken a fancy to one of the dresses in the window..." Sherlock looked at her bag and looked back at Loraine, looking like he was gonna yell '_Eureka_'.

"Loraine. Loraine dear. Hand me that bag, will you?" Loraine looked at the bag.

"Sure, let me just take out my watch-." Sherlock snatched the bag from her. "**Hey!**" Sherlock opens the bag in a rush, and grabs the watch. "Oh, Loraine dear you're a savior. John! The killer sold the watch! What dress did you want, Loraine? Surely selling the watch could earn you a few pounds..." Loraine shook her head.

"I am certaintly not selling that. Wait. What was the victim's name?"

"Hannah Tae, why?" Loraine grabbed a nearby notepad and pencil and wrote some things down. Both Sherlock and John were quiet until Loraine stood up abruptly. "Rearrange those letters and get **Anna Heath**." John looked at the notepad and looked back at the detective. "Okay, but who's Anna Heath?" Sherlock looked over at Loraine. "Your victim." He mumbled. Loraine nodded. "Oh thank God for _Holmes Sense!_ Yet I think I made the case somewhat harder." Sherlock didn't seem to notice the sense Loraine named after him (Thank god) and handed her back the bag. "Alright, I need everyone to shut up for a moment." Sherlock said, and the room went silent.

_Obviously the murderer needs to know how to make murders look like suicide and how to time travel. Well this makes things much easier. Let's see... someone who knows how to make deaths look like suicide but still manage to kill them off, and someone who can kill someone who doesn't even live here. Wait. But what if we're all somehow connected? As in Miss Tae could quite possible be Anna Heath... Name change? Well, someone who got a name change couldn't be dead in two places. Unless someone related to Anna Heath got killed today, and the same killer killed her relation!_

"Loraine. Do you know if Anna Heath had any sisters?"

_***This was supposed to be the end of the chapter, but it was too short so I wrote a bit more.***_

"A sister? Why yes, two years older than her. Poor girl got murdered though... after... getting a name change... Why yes! By George, I think I got it!" Sherlock grabbed her hands.

"I do too! I've got it too! Eureka! Come with me!" Sherlock and Loraine, all smiles, ran from the flat and out to London, forgetting to inform poor John.

"Loraine? Sherlock? Oh, for the love of... Mrs. Hudson!" John hollered.

"Yes dear?" She replied.

"Do you know where Loraine and Sherlock have gone off to?"

"No dear, my apologies!" _Buzz. Buzz._ Just then John's phone went off.

_"Dear Watson, come at once to the crime scene._

_SH"_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. I got other ideas then got horrible Writer's Block for this story. Enjoy! And go check out my other Sherlock fics, eyyyy? **

**Warning: One cuss word.**

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At the crime scene, Sherlock told Loraine to look around and see what she could find. She first looked at the victim. "Yes, definitely related to Anna Heath. Looks just like her, up to the freckle on the chin." She turned to Sherlock. "I have photographic memory... wait a minute." Loraine opened her phone.

Menu

***Contacts **

*Games

*Videos

She pressed Contacts.

***Anna Heath**

She pressed it.

***Call **

*Delete

*Edit

Loraine pressed call and waited on the line.

"Hello?" Loraine felt her heart skip a beat.

"Ahem... Hello, is this Anna Heath?" Her eyes drifted to Sherlock, who was very interested.

"Yes, who's this?"

"Hi, Anna, this is Loraine Hallowell. I have some rather bad news. You're sister Hanna Tae was murdered this morning."

"I don't know a Hannah Tae, I'm sorry. You've got the wrong number, my sister's name is Lana Heath."

"Miss Heath, Hannah- er... Lana, had a name change a day ago. If you'd like, I could send a picture to your cell..."

"N-No, I believe you. Oh, god no. Lana... Is there anyway I could get information about this incident?" Sherlock snatched the phone from Loraine's hand.

"Hello, Miss Heath. I'm Sherlock Holmes, I'm sure you've heard of me. I'm working on your sister's case with Miss Hallowell. Yes, we could meet up at the diner. Okay, til' then." He hung up. Loraine looked at him. "Did you have to-. Oh goodness me, my stomach is killing me right now." She groaned for a second before looking at Sherlock. "Sherlock... I'm gonna need a bucket."

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"Loraine, are you done? You've been upchucking a storm for ten minutes. Is everything alright?" Sherlock asked, though his voice didn't sound actually concerned. "Ugh... I-I don't know what's going on..." Sherlock looked over at her for a second.

"Did you possibly have a partner?"

Loraine's eyes widened. "Goodness, no! We just met a few hours ago and you're accusing me of being pre- pre- pregnant." The man shrugged. "Hm... Well, since we have about three hours until we have to meet Anna, why don't you go back to... your time... and grab your necessities." Loraine looked at Sherlock for a few minutes.

"Wha- Are you telling me to move in with you?" He turned around and looked her straight in the eye.

"Well, yes." Loraine thought for a moment. Moving in with her favorite detective... she could quite possibly learn a few things from him. But was this a good idea?

What about her family? And Sherlock, her dog?

"Fine, but as long as I get to keep a Labrador Retriever at the flat." Loraine told him. Sherlock stared at her for a few minutes.

"You're joking, right? A Labrador Retriever? Really? Those things shed like there's no tomorrow, and they'll poop all over my floor! Bloody hell, I need a cigarette." Loraine caught his wrist before he could reach for the ones in his pocket.

"No! You've worked so hard!" Sherlock sighed._ 'That would be something Watson would say, huh...'_

"Fine, as long as the dog doesn't poop in my house, shed in my house, or even bark in my house." Loraine sighed. "You got a deal." Sherlock smiled slightly before hitting Loraine in her pressure point, causing her to black out instantly.

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It took about less than a minute for Loraine to wake up, and when she did she was back in Anna Heath's home, Sherlock looking absolutely bored staring at the amateur detectives frolicking about. "What the bloody hell was that for?" Loraine shouted, catching the attention of some of the detectives. Sherlock shushed her. "Come on, let's go to your house." Loraine rolled her eyes as she walked out. Oh, thank god her Porsche was still there.

Back at the Hallowell household, Sherlock was attacked to the ground by a huge dog who started immediately licking his face. "Oh my god! Sherlock! Down, boy, down!" The dog got off of Sherlock and sat in front of his Master. Sherlock stood up and glared at the dog before walking to who-knows-where.

Loraine on the other hand didn't care about where Sherlock went. Sherlock The Dog has been put in a cage just in case his next move was to hump the shit out of poor Sherlock. Putting the radio on and plopping in Estelle's album, American Boy started playing and Loraine got to work on making some cheesecake.

Sherlock had walked into Loraine's bedroom and into her private bathroom. She wouldn't mind. He used her sink to wipe off all the disgusting canine slobber as he walked back into her bedroom, grabbing a shoe box under her bed. _I knew it_, he thought. _But why does Loraine have a shoe box full of MEN'S CLOTHES under her bed?_

Loraine now had a few ingredients in front of her and was preparing the mix. Wondering where Sherlock was, she hollered his name. "Sherlock?"

"Sherlock?" He heard, but he payed no attention to it. Probably calling the dog. He grabbed the only nice looking clothes and went into her shower.


End file.
